Aliens: Evolution
by Gehenna79
Summary: On the planet LV-333, a strange temple has been discovered, and a team of Xenoarchaeologists and Colonial Marines have been sent to check it out. What they will find will change humanity forever. Takes place in the Aliens Universe only; no Predators.
1. Building Better Worlds

**Aliens: Evolution**

**Author's Note: Hi All, I've been wanting to write an Aliens fic for a while now , and this is the start. Sorry its short, I just wanted to set the stage clearly.**

**Thanks, Gehenna.**

* * *

**Chapter One: Building Better Worlds**

Weyland-Yutani Database Entry GRE-33409812

Regarding Planet Designated: LV-333

Report:

Planet LV-333 is 90% Desert Biome based. Most of the planet except the very northernmost areas is all desert, with mountains in certain areas. However, sources of some water have been reported, mostly as aforementioned, in the northern hemisphere very close to the pole. There are some species of interesting, heat-resistant foliage spread in these areas, but more importantly large deposits of ore, Iron and Uranium, can be found near the equatorial regions and the more mountains regions of the Northwestern hemisphere.

Update: So far the planet has been colonized minimally at Coordinate X 46.78903/Y 100.38221 to start up ore extracting operations, upward costs of ten million credits exceeding to fifteen. Personnel staff numbers about Three thousand at the moment. Production has increased profits for the last five years since colony construction.

Update: Survey drones report as of last month have reported a strange structure built one hundred kilometers south of the colony. Closer reports have shown that it is Alien in its design.

Recent Update: Renowned Xenoarchaeologist Kevin Baird contracted to head an expedition to ascertain more information on Alien structure. Colonial Marine Detachment Mark 707- "Wolf Squad" contract employed for protection.

Priority Alpha: Should any Xenomorph contagions or samples be made available, priority is to retrieve samples for Bioweapons division, per Weyland-Yutani Xenobiology contract standard. Failure to bring in samples will result in termination and lawsuit.

Last Update Date, January 26th, 2210.

Database End.


	2. The Menu

**Chapter Two: The Menu**

**Weyland-Yutani Designated Planet LV-333**

**Local Time: 1000**

**Main Colony Designated: Kennedy's Cross**

* * *

**ViewPoint: Kevin Baird**

The meeting room was filled with silence; a lone oval table was placed in the center of the room. Kevin Baird, famed Xenoarchaeologist sat on the south side of the table, his hands folded together in a contemplative appearance. The man was about thirty years old, possessing a bushy black beard that matched the mid-length hair on his head, giving him the appearance of a 1960's Old Earth Hippie. He was a little big in the chest, and had a pointed nose, almost triangular in shape. Baird sat across the room from what he considered a "suit", a thin, wiry man with short clipped hair, wearing a two piece business suit. The suit had taken out a stack of papers from his suitcase and they sat next to him. The man screamed "I am boring," with each monotone sentence he spoke, dry and dull. It was taking a lot of work for Baird not to fall asleep from that.

"As per standard Archaeological contracts," spoke the Suit, "You will be entitled to a Five million credit grant and two hundred and fifty thousand payment in credits upon completion of mission. All members in your team will also be receiving a payment of fifty-thousand credits, upon completion of objectives. Your primary objectives as stated by Weyland-Yutani directives are to investigate and research anything at Site Designated: Site X. Do you accept these terms, Mr. Baird?"

"Obviously," quipped Baird with a slight grin, "I'm here aren't I?"

The suit did not react, as Baird expected, and merely coughed, "Very good. All members of your team are your responsibility and their safety is the responsibility of the Colonial Marine Unit designated by Weyland-Yutani for your protection. You are bound to obey any safety protocols that they instruct you to comply with, or a five hundred credit fine will be charged to you and removed from your subsequent payment. Do you accept these additional terms, Mr. Baird?"

"Yes, yes," replied Baird impatiently. The idea of getting out there to see the ruins as soon as possible was the only thing on the Scientist's mind. It literally was driving him frenzied with anticipation.

"Good, we have just a few things for you to sign," the suit gestured to the stack of papers, _more than just a few, _thought Baird to himself, "Just formalities, regarding some specifics."

"Specifics?"

"You could stay here for a couple hours and read them through if you like," the Suit told him, for the first time that day coming close to humor, if not the kind that Baird would have wanted.

The stack of papers was about half an inch thick, and every other page required Baird to sign something. Having to look at them all would be a pain in the ass. Baird decided to just nod it off and said, "Nah, its just so you guys don't have to pay us any insurance money."

"With luck," said the suit, "We wouldn't have to."

* * *

Baird walked into the prep lab half an hour later, where his wife was currently working. She was of medium height with blonde hair of considerable length. She was a little pudgy, not necessarily fat, but she did have a certain roundness to her that Baird considered charming. He knew he himself was fat, and was lucky that he had gotten a woman so enamored in the same field as he was, to put aside physical appearances.

Baird gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek and she smiled, saying, "How did the meeting go?"

"Boring," he complained, "I had to sign a billion papers before they would let me go."

His wife chuckled and said, "I'm sure you survived. You still have plenty of time to help me sort all this research equipment."

Baird scanned the room.

There were several tables, all of them packed high with tightly fastened silver crates. Over to the side of the room was a large box-shaped device with several arms attached to its chassis, and a circular viewport with a photographic lens on the front side. A Robot.

"Is Arthur ready?" asked Baird referring to the robot.

"He should be. I checked his Treads and hydraulics and he's in prime condition. There was a little grit left in from last time, but I removed it with a compressed airbrush. So he should be all fine."

"Good, where's DJ?"

"He said he was going to the colony's bar."

Baird sighed, "If he doesn't come back sober I'm going to dock his pay a few hours. He needs to be more responsible."

"I think that would be fair, but I'm sure he'll be fine."

Baird helped his wife catalog all of the equipment, which took about an hour. At the very end, Baird could hear footsteps thumping on the floor behind him and looked up to see a middle aged man in a navy blue turtleneck and pants walk in. The man had graying hair, a sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to be always scanning the room. Baird had told his wife that he thought the man was lazy and listless, but his wife had told Baird that she thought DJ was just good at being efficient, and didn't like to waste time.

"You better be sober," growled Baird.

"Relax man, I already did all this shit once. Ellen wanted to do it all again though because she didn't trust customs."

Baird's wife, Ellen, shrugged and said, "They could have made a mistake. This is million dollar equipment right here and there's no knowing what we'll need in the Temple."

"Best bring it all then," quipped DJ.

Baird sighed, "Well I guess then all we can do now is wait for the Colonial Marines to get here, so we can be on our way."

"Aye, I heard that the team we got is a bunch of hardasses," DJ laughed, "Its going to be fun trying to entertain them."

"Fun for you maybe, not so fun for the rest of us. Where all the others anyway?"

"I put them on break," said Ellen, "They helped a lot moving stuff out of the ship, and a few helped DJ catalog the first time. So I let them go off. I imagine that most of them are at the bar, and the rest are most likely asleep in their bunks."

"Lee and O'Donnell were at the bar, playing Pool," commented DJ.

"Then we'll not disturb them," said Baird, "I think I'll be going to the bar myself."

"Have fun," said Ellen, distracted.

"You're not coming?"

"I'm not really in the mood to get drunk."

Baird coughed awkwardly and defended himself, "I never said anything about getting drunk."

"You're going with DJ."

"Hey!" interrupted DJ indignantly.

"Good point," said Baird, taking his wife's soft hands in his, "I promise I won't be drunk when I come back. It would pretty inconvenient for the mission if I had a hangover, and that would embarrass me in front of the Colonial Marines."

"Screw them," said DJ, "They always think people should buy them free drinks."

"Alright," said Ellen, kissing her husband on the lips, "Have fun, is all I can say."

"I think I will," said Baird mischievously, and him and DJ left the room.

* * *

**Viewpoint Shift: Sergeant Frank Pierce**

"That's them Sarge," whispered Ramirez, "The Scientists."

Pierce looked around to see two soft looking men walk into the room. The bar was a basically a long corridor with booths on one side, and a bar with stools on the other. The whole place was painted red, with a long chrome stripe running along the length of the building. An army of drinks was situated behind the bar, on tap and by the bottle, all being served by a young female bartender, who always the attention of at least several male colonists. She was easy on the eyes, Pierce had to admit.

Pierce sipped at his beer, and saw the Scientists. One of them was fat, no doubt about that, and the other was kind of rough looking, in a blue turtleneck vest. They walked over to the bar to meat a young Asian girl, that Pierce had also checked out, who was sitting next to what presumably was another scientist, a kind of flat faced, tall man with an Irish accent.

"Why is it Scientists always need protecting, Sarge? Why can't they learn to shoot for themselves," quipped Corporal Genelle Branson. She was lean, mean, and always wore Camo everywhere, even on shore leave. She had almost more muscle than Pierce himself had. Almost.

Pierce took another sip then drawled, "Scientists have their skills. We have ours. Its good pay. Not going to find much else during peacetime."

"That's for damn sure," said Ramirez again. He was young, Latino, with copper skin and coal-black hair, but he was damn good with a sniper rifle, Pierce had to admit. Pierce wasn't above admitting people below his rank were better than him at some things. "Should we introduce ourselves?"

"Nah," said Pierce, shifting in his seat to get a better view of the Asian girl, "We'll have plenty of time to do that tomorrow. Unless that girl with them is one of them, because I was hoping to introduce myself to her real good."

"Going to use the good ol' let me buy you a drink routine, Sarge?" said Corporal Johnson with a hearty laugh. The African-american soldier was huge, big as a wrestler, but pretty harmless, except in a fight.

"Can you read minds now, Johnson?" Pierce answered with a smile, "Yeah that always work. I gave that bitch a drink. Bitches love drinks."

"Damn right," added Ramirez, "When I want on Spring Break, back when I was in college, man, girls love to not be able to hold their liquor."

"Most girls are weak, can't shoot whiskey for shit," said Branson angrily, "But I can show them how its done."

"Drink five in a row without vomiting on the floor, and maybe I'll pay you."

"You're on corporal."

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," interrupted Pierce, "I'm going to go enjoy the rest of my evening. Don't embarrass the corps, if you can try."

"No sir," they all said in unison.

Pierce left the table , after seeing an open spot near the girl he was interested in. He walked up to the bar and took a seat on the bar, ordering another drink to give himself a perfect there. The girl was young, maybe in her early twenties, and had a ponytail of raven-black hair, that contrasted against her creamy white skin.

She was busy talking with her other scientist friends though, and Pierce took his time with his beer, waiting for the best opportunity to make his move. Finally, one of them lest and left an empty space on her left, so he casually moved over to her, without making a sound.

The girl looked over to Pierce and he grinned and said, "Hello."

"Hey, soldier," she responded to him.

"You one of those Weyland-Yutani Scientists?"

"The ones your supposed to be protecting?"

He laughed, "You tell me."

She smiled and said, "Dr. Anya Lee."

"Sergeant Franklin Pierce, can I buy you a drink?"

"I've had one already, but why the hell not? As long as you don't mind paying for a martini."

"No problem," he ordered up from the bartender, who made it in a cylinder shaped glass. "Think you can pay me back with some conversation."

She smiled, "I know what you want."

"Conversation?"

"More than that," she chuckled.

"No, no, please, I only wanted to talk. To get to know my charges more personally."

She laughed even louder at that, "Poor choice of words."

"You don't go into the Colonial Marines because you have a good vocabulary," he retorted, finishing his beer, "Though I'm no Jarhead, sorry to disappoint you if that's your thing."

"I prefer smarter men, but Sergeant means you have to do more than just follow orders."

"Of course, strategy, tactics, all sorts of things. But all those things are boring. Tell me about yourself?"

If there was thing Pierce knew, it was that women liked to talk about their work and themselves. He just sat there and listened, and found out that if he was in highschool, she would be way beyond his league. She had rich parents, was a child prodigy, and was only twenty yet already had a doctorate in Biology, and was planning to get one in Psychology eventually. At the point, Pierce knew it was time for some follow up questions, to show that he had been listening.

He asked her about her dissertation, and she explained some stuff that went beyond Pierce's head so he merely nodded and listened and that got him a few more points it seemed. She didn't ask for another drink either, and when he asked her if she wanted one she said, "No."

"Tired, afraid you'll get drunk?"

"No, I just don't want to abuse your generosity," she said simply.

"Please, abuse it all you like, it doesn't hurt my feelings."

She sighed, "I'm just going to get going now."

Disappointed, all Pierce said was, "You sure, you need someone to walk you back to your room?"

"No, I don't need that," she seemed flustered and walked off, but before she left she said, "Thanks for the drink."

"Yeah, no problem."

Pierce sat there for a while then went to go back to sit with his squad.

"Ha, didn't work," said Ramirez.

"She seemed uncomfortable towards the end," said Pierce, sitting down in his chair.

"She was starting to like you," chipped in Branson, "Thus why she didn't take advantage of you, letting you get her another drink. But she didn't want to sleep with you after one meeting. You have to work to get that."

"Makes sense," said Pierce, "I'm glad I have a woman in the squad to help me with my sex life."

The whole squad jeered at that and Pierce finished them off, yelling, "Alright Marines, tomorrow's a busy day, off to your quarters now, we wake up at 0600."

With that, they all rose in sync and left the bar.

* * *

**Author's Note: I Hope you guys enjoyed that. Pretty long I know, but no good Aliens movie is without some good Character development. Thanks for reading ~ Gehenna**


	3. Questions

**Aliens: Evolution Chapter Three: Questions**

**Weyland-Yutani Designated Planet LV-333**

**Time: 0630, Date 2/1/2210**

**Viewpoint: Synthetic Model T22-CJA12 (Connor)**

* * *

LV-333's green sun rose up high in the early morning sky, prompting Connor to stand still for a moment and look at it. Even to a Synthetic like him, he could appreciate beauty, and his advanced intelligence could even simulate positive emotions regarding such things. Connor was truly the apex of his kind, or at least for the time being anyway, having replaced the old Bishop line of Synthetics twenty years ago, and he knew this well. Still, it would not do to become over confident of one's abilities. After a few seconds of admiration, Connor went on his way, walking over the flat fields of grainy orange sand, over to a vehicle hangar bay.

The building was just a simple two story garage in the middle of the desert, and already Connor could see the Colonial Marines, in their green gray combat uniforms, moving crates of provisions into the APC and the Cheyenne Gunship that were being prepped for the immediate take off later that day.

The APC was built like a tank, but much more maneuverable, being a kind of shielded box on wheels, with data feeds in the interior, along with enough room for two squads of marines, plus equipment. The Cheyenne Gunship was a low-level spacecraft that allowed for use in zero-gee and in low-atmo, making it a very useful vehicle, especially combined with its rocket launchers and main guns that fired Incendiary and Armor Piecing rounds, depending on what the situation required. The Cheyenne was kind of shaped similar to the APC in the chassis, but it had a glass window in front of its cockpits, two rectangular exhaust thrusters on the back, and and two branching wings that came off the chassis of the ship. It was an impressive vehicle, and Connor had the data to repair and fix them.

He was not here for that however. He was there to follow the company's orders, while at the same time obey his programming. The Company secretly wanted anything to do with Xenomorphs, a race of hostile beings that used human beings and other life forms as hosts for their barbaric reproductive cycle. The temple structure that had been discovered by Weyland-Yutani's sattelites indicated that the structure might possibly be Engineer in origin, which meant there could possibly be Xenomorph samples in there. Weyland-Yutani would not care, Connor knew, if the Xenomorphs infected any of these marines and scientists, so long as they could capture a specimen. Connor's programming, instituted by law, required he protect human life at the same time though, giving him a predicament if they did indeed run into alien lifeforms.

But Connor waved that thought aside and set himself on the task at hand for the time being.

There were about twenty or so Colonial Marines he knew, that were part of this assignment, four squads, all under the command of Lieutenant Menendez, whose file showed that he had many years experience fighting on Auturus IV and on Teltin, during the seven-day war with the UPP. The man knew his craft well, and Connor believed that Weyland-Yutani had chosen the right man for this job, if they did run into something they couldn't handle.

Connor walked up to Lieutenant Menendez. The man was about forty or so years old, with slightly graying hair that remained at its core strawberry blonde, short, but long enough to have a wisp of waviness to it. The man's face was hard, and betrayed no emotion. The man looked Connor up and down as the Synthetic approached and said, "You the robot?"

Connor smiled. The word robot was a slur in his opinion, but it was something he'd have to get over, "Yes, I am the Synthetic. The Science representative for Weyland-Yutani."

"Another one, eh? Too many of you scientists, wanting to dig around in things you're not supposed to be, but I got my orders so lets get on with it."

"Can you point me to Kevin Baird?"

"Aye, he's in the other room, in an hour we're going to have a safety briefing, so make sure he doesn't go anywhere. Then after that, we'll finally be moving out. Weyland-Yutani says you have some experience fixing vehicles am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, because we only have one other mechanic besides you, so that will help."

Connor gave a curt nod then walked off into the adjacent room, where a group of five scientists were sitting on some tables, while a middle aged Sergeant was giving a talk of some sort. The Sergeant was wearing nothing other than his camouflage colored fatigues, and had close-cropped black hair, a squat nose, and eyes the color of the ocean. He was in the middle of speaking when Connor walked in, and broke in his train of thought. The Sergeant asked, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"I am Synthetic Model T22-CJA12, Science Team Representative for Weyland-Yutani Biotech facilities. But you...may call me Connor," said Connor without skipping a beat.

Kevin Baird, whose profile Connor had memorized already, said somewhat rudely, "Weyland-Yutani is sending a robot to look after us? How insulting."

Dexter O'Conell, a short, Irish scientist with fiery red hair, and according to Connor's logs, a fiery temper to match said, "That's just great."

Connor put up his hand in a placating gesture and said, "Do not be alarmed, Mr. Baird. I am not here to put you to here. I am merely here to observe."

"They're afraid that we might hide something from them," suggested Mrs. Baird.

"Obviously," said Baird, "But we have no choice in the matter."

DJ Cullen, the team's chief in robotics spoke next, "Bah. I hate working with synthetics, they always make my work look so primitive in reality," he laughed loudly and Connor smiled, realizing it was a joke. He might have friends in here after all.

"Well," said the Sergeant impatiently, "Can we get back to the briefing then? Is this robot going to be a problem?"

"No," said Baird with resignation, "He's one of us now."

Connor said nothing and merely sat about a foot away from Baird. The Sergeant cleared his throat and began speaking again, "So, as I was saying, you have to follow all the rules we have. If something's not safe, we'll take care of it, but we're being paid to protect you, meaning, you need to do what say. Another thing is provisions, provisions are going to be limited, so our Quartermaster we'll keep you stocked, but you can't take any more than what you're allowed, otherwise there won't be enough for everybody. Another thing..."

For about an hour the Sergeant spoke. Then, finally, he made them all sign a bunch of safety contracts, though Connor didn't have to, as he was a robot. Finally, the Sergeant dismissed them, but Connor stayed behind a moment.

The Sergeant looked over at him with suspicion, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"No, I was just wondering as to who...you are. I did not have your personal log in my files."

"Oh," said the Sergeant, taken aback, "I'm Sergeant Pierce, Franklin Pierce."

"Like the President?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, right, yeah like the President."

"Interesting. What's your squad designation?"

"T-22A? 'Wolf Squad'. Why?"

"You are a recent addition, you are not part of the original team."

"No, we were switched out of our old posting for this, because we were close by."

"I see."

"What? Do you know why?" the man questioned.

"I do not. If there was a reason, then it is classified. But I suppose you must have some sort of expertise."

"Expertise in guarding scientists? Any soldier with half a brain can do that, my friend."

Connor smiled in spite of himself, "I see. Well then, I suppose I will get on with my duties. Thank you for your time, Sergeant."

The Sergeant seemed a little dumbfounded and merely said, "Sure...no problem."

* * *

Viewpoint: Sergeant Frank Pierce

Pierce clicked shut his seatbelt. He sat on a seat within the interior of the APC, and only now was the air-coolant system finally starting to work properly. He couldn't imagine rolling out in this planet, not when an average temperature was a hundred degrees farenheit, and in the southern wastes, over a hundred and forty.

"When are we going to get this show on the road, Sarge?" asked Branson impatiently.

"Don't know, whenever the LT decides to I guess, in the mean time, does anyone else find that robot creepy? I know I do."

The scientist known as DJ spoke up, though from where Pierce was sitting he could not hear him, "Hey buddy, robots happen to be some of our jobs. And he's not creepy, he's just not human."

"That makes him creepy enough for me," said Ramirez, "And nobody asked your opinion, mister scientist guy."

The marines laughed at the harsh rebuke, but silenced when they heard the Lieutenant yell, "Quiet back there!"

"Yes, sir," said Pierce. He tried to finger for his canteen that was filled with spring water. He also had a flask full of whiskey, but he only drunk that on special occassions, and this was anything but special. As he moved his arm around the corner where he was sitting, he realized that on the other side of the corner, Anya was sitting. He moved his head around to get a look at her, and caught her attention.

"Uh..hi," said Pierce awkwardly, "Just getting my drink."

She rolled her eyes, but Pierce merely laughed and started guzzling down some cold, clean water. "Want a sip?" he offered Ramirez, who was sitting right next to him.

"No, I'm good, Sarge."

Finally over the inter-com, Pierce heard the voice of the Lieutenant, which was nice and gravelly that particularly fine morning, , "Alright team, we're heading out now. Estimated Time of Arrival is in four hours and fifteen minutes, so I hope you all brought a book to read."

A unaminous groan of disapproval and disappointment came from all the marines, except for Pierce, who actually had brought a book, knowing that the trip would take a while. Why they couldn't just fly in from orbit was beyond him, but it was possible that the terrain was not suitable, or maybe they just didn't think it was worth the gas, since they already were at the colony. Whatever it was, they were on their way now. The APC started with a grumble and then moved its way out of the garage. Above his head, Pierce heard the swoosh of the Cheyenne's thrusters blaring.

"Hey Sarge," said Branson, "Why do you think we need Air support?"

"Beats me."

"They could just have needed a vehicle to transport everybody at once," suggested Johnson.

"No, there was another APC."

"A lot about this mission doesn't make sense..."

"Yeah, I feel like there's something going on here that we don't know about. Stay sharp, wolf pack."

"Aye Sarge," they all said.


End file.
